


Juke Box Hero

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean-Centric, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Music, Mild Sexual Content, Sarcastic Dean, Set between Season 4 and Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was raining gently as Dean walked along the street, which really, was just typical of his luck. Of course it would rain on the guy who had just single-handedly (maybe not quite single-handedly, Sam had helped after all) saved this entire town from a goddamn demon army.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juke Box Hero

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: I own none of the song lyrics mentioned – they belong to Foreigner. I'm just borrowing them for now.  
> A/N 2: This is set in between Season 4 and Season 5, so I suppose it's sort of a filler. Mentions the Apocalypse, though not in any particular detail. Also references to earlier Seasons, so if you've seen them, it helps.

_"Standing in the rain, with his head hung low_  
_Couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show_  
_Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene_  
_Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream…"_

* * *

It was raining gently as Dean walked along the street, which really, was just typical of his luck. Of course it would rain on the guy who had just single-handedly (maybe not _quite_ single-handedly, Sam had helped after all) saved this entire town from a goddamn demon army. Man was he fed up of the apocalypse already. It'd only been going on three days, and already Dean was bone-tired of it. He could do without it, if he was being completely honest.

Dean didn't know where Sam was. Although, knowing Sam like he did, his brother was in their shared motel room, reading some damn book on the case they'd just finished. He honestly thought that Sam didn't know how to have fun. Hell, Dean didn't think the word 'fun' was even _in_ Sam's vocabulary – smart though Sam was. He, on the other hand, did know how to have fun. He was on his way to the nearest bar; he'd seen it on their way into town. He was gonna drink, play some pool, and maybe fuck someone. It all depended on how receptive the crowd was.

He entered the bar, slipping like a shadow through the crowd. He'd expected a crowd, but he hadn't expected the entire population of Claremont to come to this one relatively small bar. As he made his way steadily towards the bar, intent on getting an ice-cold beer, he noted that the residents knew how to have a good time. Guys were shaking all their best moves in an (wasted, if you asked Dean) effort to impress the girls, who were judging the guys from dark corners where they giggled and watched the guys.

Dean was glad to note that the bar didn't play the usual shitty pop music most bars did – which, in retrospect, might explain why it was so fucking crowded. Instead, the music was a seemingly decent (Dean wouldn't call it _good_ , not yet) rock music, without – and this was _important_ – killing Dean's eardrums. The bar had a relaxed feel about it, but Dean couldn't relax as the last hunt had left him high-strung like a fucking sprinter that hadn't used all their adrenaline up in their latest race.

Having successfully navigated the crowds and purchased himself a beer, Dean settled down in a dimly lit corner and let his eyes scan his immediate surroundings. To his left, there was a couple making-out against the debatably clean wall, and to his right, there was a bunch of squealing women who kept looking at him. Which, in the mood he was currently in, Dean found annoying. Maybe later on in the night.

"Hey handsome."

Dean looked up from the table to find one of the brunettes from the table to the right looking at him with hooded eyes and an easy, playful smirk on her cherry-red lips. She was clearly interested in him, and Dean couldn't blame her – he'd dressed well in the vague hope of getting laid tonight – but he wasn't feeling it right then.

"Hi." He said, taking a sip of his beer, not encouraging her but not discouraging her either, "What can I do for you?"

The brunette giggled, muffling it in the palm of her hand – Dean noticed that her nails matched her lipstick perfectly – and said, "You could make-out with me?"

Dean laughed, a sound that sounded foreign to his own ears, replying, "No thanks, hon."

"Why not?" The woman sounded like a petulant child to Dean's ears, which was a major turn off, even if she did look extremely _good._

He shrugged and said, "Not in the mood right now."

* * *

_"He heard one guitar, just blew him away_  
_He saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day_  
_Bought a beat up six string in a secondhand store_  
_Didn't know how to play it, but he knew for sure…"_

* * *

Dean was glad to say that, after stating his intention not to make-out with the pretty brunette – _yet_ anyway – she backed off. He could focus on trying to get his body to relax as it felt, to him at least, very tense. He didn't think that anyone in the bar could see how tense he was, but he could certainly feel it.

His shoulders and back were aching from being slammed into a concrete floor moments before Sam had exorcised the demon that had dozens of other fucking demons at its command. The demon, due to fucking _Lucifer_ being on the planet (and wasn't that _just_ Dean's luck?), had decided that the town of Claremont was the perfect place to start its own little topside Hell, as though Dean didn't already have enough to deal with.

But, he supposed, taking a drink of his beer and then setting the bottle on the small round table in front of him, since when had any demon taken his feelings into account? Never, that's when. Before that thought could go any further, Dean chose to force his thoughts towards something – _anything_ – else. His choice for right now was the Impala.

His car was a part of him, just as much as Sammy was his brother, if not more. That damn car had been there when everybody else hadn't been. Take Sam running to Stanford, for example, or Dad dying – permanently. Hell, even when Cassie had dumped him – and that had _hurt_ – he'd been able to jump in the Impala and drive away. It was always good in a crisis, being able to travel away, or as the case was now with the fuck-ton of demons topside, _towards_ trouble. (That, by the way, was fucking irritating. It meant that he couldn't have a moment's peace.)

Dean laughed quietly to himself. Sam would think he was crazy, sitting here with plenty of hot women right next to him – they were _still_ looking at him goddammit, but at least they weren't saying anything to him – and he wasn't making a move. Nor was he feeling like dancing on the makeshift dancefloor, which was really nothing more than a free space of floor with far too many bodies in. There was no way he was facing that tonight. No way. No matter how much alcohol he consumed. The only thing which would get him on the dancefloor was a freaking demon possession.

* * *

_"That one guitar, felt good in his hands_  
_Didn't take long, to understand_  
_Just one guitar, slung way down low_  
_Was one way ticket, only one way to go…"_

* * *

After half an hour, Dean realised that he'd only drunk one drink and was spending his time involuntarily checking for exits. Fuck was he hyped up on adrenaline if this was what he was spending his time doing.

He decided then and there that he needed to get laid. Maybe that would calm him down. He cleared his throat and addressed the laughing women to the right of him, "Hey."

"Oh, you're talking to me now?"

It was the brunette from earlier. He smiled.

"It seems so yes."

The brunette smirked, "That's good to hear. What's your name?"

"Name's Dean," He replied, "Yours?"

"Mine's Casey."

"Nice to meet you Casey," Dean said, thinking that maybe this night wasn't going to be such a drag after all, "Now that we know each other's names, would you like a drink?"

"A rum and coke."

Dean chuckled, he doesn't know why he didn't expect that. He got up off his chair and crossed the floor to get to the bar. Leaning against it, he ordered Casey's drink as well as another beer for himself. While he waited patiently for the bartender to make his drinks, he thought about the girl who he hadn't been able to save.

She'd been the unfortunate casualty in the hunt. She'd dropped to the floor, her crimson blood spilling out of her neck with a simple flick of the demon's wrist, before Dean had reached the main demon, and well before Sam had started to do the exorcism. After, Sam had told him that it wasn't their fault, but Dean did feel responsible. That was his problem – always feeling responsible for each and every death that occurred after they begun on a case. He thought that his brother didn't know this about him.

"Your drinks." The bartender said, smiling.

Dean nodded his thanks, taking both drinks, condensation dripping down the edge of each glass, back to the table where Casey was waiting for him.

"You look serious Dean." Casey said after taking a sip of her drink.

"Why d'you ask?" Dean asked, immediately becoming suspicious. He didn't like it when his one-night stands started asking personal questions; he didn't owe them anything but a good one night. And they don't need to know his freakin' life story for him to do that.

Casey doesn't look offended as she replies, twisting a strand of her brunette hair around a finger, "I just thought that maybe we could know the basics about each other before falling into bed."

He nodded like it was a reasonable question, when in his line of 'work' it was the cue for him to start lying out of his teeth, "Well, what do you do for a living then?"

"I work as a maid in the hotel down the road, you might have seen it."

Dean had seen it as he and Sam drove into. He'd commented that the hotel looked too posh and expensive for their tastes. Sam has agreed before directing him with practiced ease to the nearest run-down motel. Dean was glad that Sam agreed with him. He thought that shitty motels were the nearest that they'd ever get to a home, apart from Baby of course.

"Uh huh. I've seen it." He nodded, "I'm a travelling mechanic."

It was the closest thing to the truth he'd ever said to a prospective one night stand, and that was the way it was going to stay.

Casey sighed, like travelling across the country was her life dream, "Wow. You must have seen some sights."

"I sure have." Dean acknowledged with a drink of his beer.

* * *

_"So he started rockin'_  
_Ain't never gonna stop_  
_Gotta keep on rockin'_  
_Someday he's gonna make it to the top…"_

* * *

Dean groaned as Casey did that thing with her tongue in the hollow of his neck. God, it felt good. He moved a hand from Casey's hip to one of her breasts, squeezing gently, just enough for Casey to sigh and shudder as she rode out the final moments of her orgasm.

He smiled, slow and dirty, when Casey, her hair wild and her chest rising and falling, said, sounding breathless, "Wow."

"Good then?"

"Oh yeah. Let me repay the favour." Casey replied, reaching for him.

And Dean disappeared into soft hands and perfect touches. He couldn't care less. It felt amazing.

* * *

_"And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_He's a juke box hero_  
_He took one guitar, juke box hero, stars in his eyes_  
_Juke box hero, he'll come alive tonight…"_

* * *

When Dean came to the surface again, he couldn't tell how much time had elapsed. It was one of the downsides to having fucking _awesome_ sex. He couldn't say he regretted it though. The sex had been _good._ So worth losing track of time. But now, he had to get out of the room without Casey noticing. Naturally, as soon as he'd shown interest, she'd invited her to her flat which she shared with her roommate. Dean hadn't complained, it wasn't like they could've gone back his (crappy) motel room with Sam still there, but he had, in his slightly drunk mind, wondered why girls were always so eager to take guys that they'd known less than an hour back to their rooms.

As he got up, Casey mumbled in her sleep. He stilled until she settled down. Once out of the ridiculously pink bed, Dean was able to dress as he walked to the door. It seemed that last night, they hadn't waited to get to the bed before stripping off. Not that he was complaining, it signalled two things to him. First, that their chemistry must've been _on fire_ , and second, that they'd been in a hurry to get to the main event.

He opened and shut the bedroom door without Casey stirring once. He then went out of the flat via the front door and down the stairs. In a few moments, Dean was breathing in the crisp, cool air that usually signalled the likelihood of rain was high. He'd learnt to pay attention to what the weather was going to do as he had no intention of repeating an incidence of his youth. Suffice to say that it had involved a wet field, a pissed off ghost, and a _very_ wet and muddy Dean.

* * *

_"In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour_  
 _Thought he passed his own shadow, by the backstage door_  
_Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain_  
_And that one guitar made his whole life change…"_

* * *

Dean was just entering the motel room with two coffees in hand when Sam woke up.

"Hey Sammy," He said, grinning and setting the coffees down on the small table in the middle of the room, "How was your night?"

"Good," Sam said, slowly getting out of bed and stretching, "No need to ask how yours went."

"Aw Sammy, you wound me!" Dean protested, pressing a hand to his chest in mock outrage, "I'm hurt!"

"Liar."

"You love me really Sam!" Dean said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"No, I really don't." Sam replied, going to the bathroom, "I'm having a shower, and then we're going."

Dean grinned, and went back to the Impala. Life rolled on for the Winchesters.

* * *

_"Now he needs to keep rockin'_  
_He just can't stop_  
_Gotta keep on rockin'_  
_That boy has got to stay on top…"_

* * *

Dean sat at in the driver's seat of the Impala, waiting not-so freaking patiently for Sam to get his ass in the passenger seat. At least he had hot coffee. It could be worse. He could have no coffee. (That'd happened once. The consequences were ugly, especially seeing as Sam hadn't had any coffee either. They'd sat in an irritated silence until Dean had found somewhere that sold coffee.)

He leaned over and yelled out of the passenger window, "C'mon Sam! I ain't got all day!"

A few moments later, his brother appeared out of the gas station door, mumbling something Dean wasn't able to hear. Probably shit-talking him. It wouldn't surprise him. That was how they showed their affection for each other, as well as sacrificing themselves for the other every few months.

* * *

_"And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_Yeah, juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_With that one guitar he'll come alive_  
_Come alive tonight…"_

* * *

When Dean pulled into their motel for the night, Sam jumped out and asked for a room while he leaned against the Impala, glancing at the scruffy motel in passing. It looked like any of the other motel that they'd stayed in over the past month. Although, hopefully this one wouldn't have a case in it, like that one back in Sulphur, Louisiana. There had been a few demons running a motel, by which Dean meant, the demons were attracting the rough sort of crowd shitty motels always seemed to get, and then killing them in aid of Lucifer. And that was as annoying as it sounded because normally, Dean goes to the motel to get away from their cases and relax for a few hours, usually aided by half a dozen beers. But that time, no Dean had to do the fucking case while at the motel. He hadn't been pleased.

Sam leant down to look through the window, and said, "Hey Dean, they've got a double queen room. Room 17."

"Good, I'm tired as fuck."

* * *

_"Yeah, he's gotta keep rockin'_  
_He just can't stop_  
_Gotta keep on rockin'_  
_That boy has got to stay on top…"_

* * *

Dean couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped his throat as he flopped backwards onto the queen bed. Man, it was good to kick back and relax for once. That's not to say he didn't enjoy driving; he did, but it was nice to relax for a while. He sat up and saw that his brother was at the small table on his laptop, undoubtedly looking for a new case.

He got up, placed his hand on the back of the laptops screen, and gently pushed it down. Sam looked up at him.

"Dean, I might've had something up our alley," Sam said, although it sounded more like whining to Dean's ears, "Why'd you do that?"

"Because Sam, you need to relax." Dean held up a hand to stop his brother's well-meaning comment, "If only for one night."

Sam sighed heavily, "Ok. But only cause you insist."

Dean smirked, "I do insist."

* * *

_"And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes_  
_Just one guitar, put stars in his eyes_  
_He's just a juke box hero, aah aah aah_  
_Juke box hero, juke box hero, he's got stars in his eyes_  
_Stars in his eyes…"_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 3: And that's the end of this fic! God I loved writing this. :D Leave kudos or review if you liked it!


End file.
